


Still Lie the Sheltering Snows

by gwyllgi



Series: Herc/Raleigh Bingo Challenge [13]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllgi/pseuds/gwyllgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories are not all sweet, nor do they remain neatly in the past—Raleigh knows this well.  After the closure of the Breach, Raleigh discovers that there's nothing wrong with leaning on someone, any more than there is with letting them lean on you.  <i>There was something magical about storms.</i></p>
<p>Written for the Herc/Raleigh Bingo Challenge prompt: Storm</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bingo Card

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a Helen Hunt Jackson poem, _A Calendar of Sonnets: February_.
> 
> For lack of anywhere better to put it, the first chapter is my bingo card. Click on through to chapter 2 for the fic.


	2. Still Lie the Sheltering Snows

There was something magical about storms.

One of Raleigh's first memories was of pressing his nose against the window as he watched snow fall to blanket the ground in glittering white. He'd been young, still in footie pajamas, and Yancy had sat next to him with his arm around Raleigh's shoulders, a comfortable, familiar weight. He didn't remember them talking; they'd just sat in silence until Dominique had sent them to bed.

His fascination with storms didn't wane as he grew up; the chaos was fascinating, whether thunderstorm or blizzard, and Raleigh reveled in it, the thrill of anticipating the next lightning strike, the mystery of unknowable words in the howling winds. He'd wake at night and listen to the susurration of snow brushing past the house, fight the drag of sleep as long as he could. Yancy would laugh at him when he found Raleigh asleep against the window, cheek icy with the chill from outside, but he never told Raleigh to stop, instead wrapped a blanket around him and told him to go to bed when it was over.

The night Gipsy had stepped into the raging storm, Raleigh hadn't thought anything of it. He'd been high on adrenaline at the promise of another notch on their belts, filled with energy as though it fed from the storm that buffeted the Jaeger.

They were invincible.

Except they weren't, and Yancy was lost to their hubris, torn away, out of Gipsy, out of Raleigh's mind, into the storm-tossed ocean. Raleigh hadn't expected to survive without him, had expected to go down with Knifehead. It was instinct alone that took him back to shore, a base urging for survival. He remembered little of it but for the clawing fingers of the wind that tore through the hole Knifehead had carved to whip around the connpod, stealing what little warmth Raleigh had left to him. By the time he'd stumbled onto the snowy beach, he'd been chilled to the bone, to his soul, convinced he'd never be warm again.

His dishonorable discharge hadn't been a surprise; he'd disobeyed a direct order, lost his copilot, destroyed a Jaeger. He'd left the hospital in which he'd been sequestered as soon as he could stand without shaking like a leaf and checked himself instead into a cheap motel where, even if he was recognized, no one would care about who he was, who he had been.

His downward slide had caught against the Wall, where he'd learned just how far he had fallen. There, he was only one desperate man among many; even as they built the wall purported to save humanity, there was a sense of fear, of hopelessness, as if even then they had known that it was ultimately a useless gesture, a bandage on an arterial bleed.

It was there that Raleigh learned that his love of storms had been ripped away with Yancy. He'd lain awake in the crowded barracks the workers shared and listened as the wind found every tiny crack and crevice to invade the tight rooms, icy knives over his exposed cheeks. He'd been numb for so long that the first panic had been a surprise; he hadn't understood why he couldn't breathe, or why his ears rang and his vision narrowed to pinpricks. He'd forced himself to lie still, there in the dim room, until his labored gasps had evened into long, if still unsteady, respiration. It was a while still before he'd been able to sleep, before exhaustion dragged him under.

It wasn't until two winters after his discharge, after he lost himself, that he managed to sleep through the storms he'd once loved, huddled under blankets pulled over his ears to muffle the faint sounds that penetrated the room. He'd slept poorly, but he'd slept, fought the memories and ghosts and trauma and come through the other side mostly intact. The Wall didn't forgive distraction, and chronic insomnia was already enough of a struggle.

So it had stood until a familiar form had appeared in a swirl of snow and tossed down a gauntlet that Raleigh had been unable to resist picking up.

He'd found so much in Hong Kong: friends, purpose, hope. When it was over, he was able to look back at everything without many regrets; they'd done it, they'd won, if at a cost almost unbearably high. They were cracked but not broken, bloody but not beaten, a phoenix rising from the ashes.

The PPDC—the world—was being reborn, Raleigh along with it.

It wasn't as easy as that, of course, but every day was easier, every breath a little steadier than the last. It wasn't long before Raleigh realized that he wasn't the only one in need of peace, but the Marshal wasn't the type to admit to any weakness, to lance the hurt so it could heal. Raleigh understood that better than anyone, but he also understood that sometimes a person wanted to wallow in their pain, to let it soak into every pore.

The difference was that Raleigh hadn't had anyone to stop him before it overflowed, draining away everything he had, everything he was.

The Marshal was almost at critical mass when Mako nudged Raleigh. She'd lost her father, her lodestone, but they'd never Drifted, never stepped into each other's minds and shared every fiber of their being. Raleigh knew what it was like to lose someone whose memories still dwelled in his mind, and so had stepped in, stubborn in the face of the Marshal's resistance until he'd succeeded in wearing him down. He'd promised that the PPDC would last a few days without him and all but packed the Marshal up and shoved him into a plane. As they flew toward what had once been home, Raleigh sat next to the sleeping Marshal and hoped for the strength necessary to help himself, too.

* * *

"Welcome to Anchorage, Marshal."

"Didn't we decide you'd call me Herc while we were here?"

"Right. Welcome to Anchorage, Herc."

Herc nodded slightly as his eyes traveled over the concourse. "This isn't what I was expecting."

Raleigh laughed and set off toward baggage claim at a leisurely pace, matched after a moment by Herc. "You were expecting some rinky-dink pit in the middle of nowhere, weren't you?" He jostled Herc amicably. "It's not Hong Kong, but it's still a pretty big deal. Used to be, anyway; the kaiju kind of put a damper on it." He looked at Herc's profile, studied the tired lines of his face for a moment. "Did you know it's never been closed for snow? It's won awards for snow removal and everything."

"Fascinating."

Raleigh sighed, but took the hint in Herc's flat tone and fell into silence. They eventually joined the throng at the baggage claim and retrieved their checked bags, then headed for the shuttle stop. Herc jolted at the blast of cold air when the doors opened, and immediately began to shiver, despite the heavy coat Raleigh had bought for him during their long layover in Seattle. Raleigh stowed their luggage and hustled him onto the shuttle, grateful for the efficient heater as he settled into a seat next to Herc. "Your thin Australian blood must hate me right now."

"Considering it." Herc's tone was still flat, but with a little more shine than before, enough to give Raleigh hope for his eventual unwinding. "Why, of all the places we could have gone, did you decide you wanted to come _here_?"

"I have some things to take care of here, and you could use a change of scenery." Raleigh debated sliding an arm around Herc's shoulders, canned the idea when he imagined how easily Herc could break his nose. "I can show you the sights, such as they are—the ones People Mover goes by, at least."

"Tomorrow."

Raleigh nodded and shifted to pull his gloves out of his pocket, pressed them into Herc's hands. He fought a smile at Herc's grateful look and the speed with which he pulled them on, and turned to look out the window at the passing scenery. They were already rounding Lake Spenard; it would only be a minute or two more before they arrived at the hotel. "Plenty of time."

Ten minutes later, Raleigh swiped his keycard and opened the door to their room, held it open for Herc as he dragged his luggage in. The room was comfortable, well-appointed with two queen-sized beds and a tempting lounger, and Raleigh was grateful to close the door behind them and seal out the world.

It was harder than he'd expected, being back in Anchorage, and he took a moment at the door to simply gather himself, inhaled deeply and told himself that he could handle this. He could—it wasn't about him, after all.

Herc had laid claim to the bed nearest the door, so Raleigh wheeled his bag past him to set it against the wall beside the window. The view of the lake was excellent, and Raleigh was nearly pressing his nose to the glass when Herc's voice broke the silence.

"Snow tonight, they say. Is the high really only five below?"

Raleigh turned to find Herc poking at his phone, expression intent. "Sounds about right. A little cooler than average, but not too bad." He knelt on the edge of his bed, then flopped onto his back, arms spread-eagled. "How much snow?"

"It doesn't—wait, here. Three to four inches. You sure we'll be able to get out and see those sights of yours?"

Raleigh closed his eyes and sighed, curled his fingers into his palms and dug his nails into the meat of his hands. "Three or four inches is nothing. They'll have that cleared pretty quickly, and People Mover will still be running." He released his fists a finger at a time, then splayed his fingers wide as he pressed his hands into the mattress at his sides. "You don't get out of my nostalgia that easily, Herc."

"I can't escape you, then." Herc's tone was dry, but when Raleigh opened his eyes and twisted to look at him, a faint smile was playing on Herc's lips. "Why do we have to share a room again?"

"So you don't shut yourself in." Raleigh pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, settled with his elbows propped on his thighs and his hands dangling between his spread knees. "I'd be so lonely without your charming self."

The look Herc shot him was unimpressed, but hints of a smile still curled the corners of his mouth. "I'm going to catch a shower. They have room service here? Order whatever for me."

"Yessir," Raleigh said to Herc's back as it disappeared through the bathroom door, then pushed himself off the bed to retrieve the menu and flip through it. A few minutes later and, order placed, Raleigh flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes again. Just a moment's rest, that was all he needed. Just a moment to close his eyes and he'd be good.

He startled awake when the door slammed and found Herc looking a little chagrined as he caught Raleigh's eye.

"Didn't mean to wake you," Herc said and crossed to the room's small table to lift the lids of their order. "Thought I'd let you sleep a little. Looked like you needed it."

"S'fine." Raleigh frowned at the thickness of his voice, cleared his throat, and tried again. "I hope burgers are OK."

Herc shook his head as he uncovered a plate of onion rings and another of what looked like cheese sticks, but it seemed to be more disbelief than disagreement. "Haven't had good beef in a long time. Felt like a heart attack tonight?"

"Kind of." Raleigh shrugged and looked Herc over as he picked through the food. He looked more relaxed than he had earlier, but that might be the fact that he was clad in only a ribbed tank and pajama bottoms. Raleigh's eyes drifted over the well-worn flannel to settle on Herc's feet, and he realized— "Even your toes have freckles."

Herc froze, then looked over his shoulder at Raleigh. "Is that a problem?"

Raleigh could feel himself flush without knowing why, and shook his head to cover his sudden embarrassment. "No, not— I just never noticed before."

"Seen my feet a lot, then, Raleigh? You sneaking in when I'm sleeping to admire them?"

Fuck, he had to be bright red; his ears were practically burning. "This is the first time. I never thought about it before, I guess."

Herc shook his head, expression bemused, before he claimed one of the burgers and settled cross-legged on his bed to eat it. Grateful for the distraction, Raleigh followed suit and, between the two of them, they'd soon cleared the tray. Herc gnawed thoughtfully on the last pickle spear, looked like he was building up to something, and Raleigh absently picked at his blanket as he waited for whatever it was.

"We should turn in," Herc said at last, didn't look at Raleigh as he rose to wipe the pickle juice from his fingers and heft the tray. He headed for the door and set the tray outside, looked out the window as he returned to his bed. "It's late."

Raleigh nodded and, as he gathered his pajamas and headed for the bathroom, wondered why he felt so disappointed.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Herc was a lump, covers pulled over his ears. Raleigh shook his head with a smile, then tossed his clothes in a corner and climbed into his own bed. He turned out the light Herc had thoughtfully left on, settled in, and was out like a light.

It was pitch black out when Raleigh started awake, gasping and sweating, to find Herc perched next to him on the bed, one hand on Raleigh's shoulder. He was barely a shadow in the darkness, and Raleigh closed his eyes again for a moment as he fought the tremors coursing through him.

"Nightmare?"

Raleigh nodded, then, when he realized that Herc wouldn't be able to see it, said, "Yeah." He pushed himself upright and swiped the back of a hand across his brow, then drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "Sorry—didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." Herc's hand, jarred from its grip when Raleigh had moved, found his knee instead, patted awkwardly. "You OK?"

Raleigh sighed. "I'd thought I was over it. Maybe it's being home again. Stirred up old memories." He frowned. "Sorry. This was supposed to give you a break, not have you babysitting my issues."

"Yeah, nah. It's good to get a break from my own." Herc patted Raleigh's knee again. "It's easier to talk in the dark."

"Yeah..." Raleigh sighed. "It's the snow. It's always the snow." He turned his head to look out the window they'd left uncovered, at the fat flakes that whipped past the window and glinted in the moonlight. "Used to love it. Now it makes me think of Knifehead." He dropped his head against his knees, forehead pressed against Herc's fingers. "When it all went wrong."

Herc shifted, twisted on the bed until Raleigh could feel Herc's thigh pressed against his hip just before cool fingers slid over the back of his neck and squeezed. When Raleigh sighed again, Herc's thumb began rubbing circles behind Raleigh's ear. "I used to do this for Angela when she got headaches. Do you mind?"

It was a simple touch but there, in the dark as the wind drove snow against their window, it encompassed Raleigh's world. "No. Feels good." Time seemed to stretch as Herc rubbed his neck, cool fingers gradually warming with the heat of Raleigh's skin. He was nearly dozing when Herc's hand slid away. "Why'd you stop?"

Herc's soft huff of laughter was unfamiliar; Raleigh didn't think he'd heard it since Manila, a lifetime ago. "Thought you'd gone back to sleep, didn't want to wake you." He flicked his thumb over Raleigh's earlobe, brushed it along the corner of Raleigh's jaw. "Think you can now?"

They were barely more than strangers, still far from friends, but Raleigh didn't want to let go of the connection the dark and storm had formed. "Stay here?" He groped for Herc's shoulder in the dark. "Just until it's over."

Herc was silent and still for so long that Raleigh worried he'd offended him. Finally, he nudged Raleigh's hip with his leg. "Scoot over." Raleigh wasted no time in making room for him, and Herc shifted to slide under the covers and settle on his back next to Raleigh. "Nothing funny now."

Raleigh chuckled and reached across the small space between them to grasp Herc's wrist. "Nothing funny," he agreed before he closed his eyes and let out an exhale that took some of his anxiety with it. "Thanks, Herc."

Tomorrow, he'd show Herc his childhood, tie up what few loose ends he had left. Tonight, though, it was shared body heat and the regular throb of Herc's pulse against his fingertips to keep the nightmares at bay.

As Raleigh fell back into sleep, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to [sorrowfulcheese](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese) for the super beta. Any lingering errors are mine, naturally.


End file.
